dk.intensity-第7部分

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　She　was　shocked　that　the　killer　had　done　so　much　damage　while　she　had　sat；　unknowing；　at　the　guest…room　window；　brooding　on　the　stars　and　thinking　of　other　nights　when　she　had　gazed　at　them　from　rooftops；　backyard　trees；　and　beaches。　From　what　she'd　seen；　he　had　taken　at　least　ten　or　fifteen　minutes　with　Paul　and　Sarah　before　searching　the　rest　of　the　large　house　to　locate　and　overpower　the　remaining　occupants。
　Sometimes　a　man　like　this　got　a　special　thrill　from　risking　interruption；　even　apprehension。　Perhaps　a　half…asleep；　bewildered　child　would　be　drawn　into　the　parents'room　by　some　motion　and　then　would　have　to　be　pursued　and　dragged　down　before　escaping　the　house。　Such　possibilities　heightened　the　pleasure　that　the　creep　took　from　his　activities　in　the　bedroom　and　the　bath。
　This　was　a　pleasure　to　him。　A　pulsion；　but　not　one　over　which　he　despaired。　Fun。　His　recreation。　No　guilt…therefore；　no　anguish。　Savagery　gladdened　him。
　Somewhere　in　the　house；　he　was　either　at　play　or　resting　until　he　was　ready　to　begin　the　game　again。
　As　her　shakes　subsided　to　shivers；　Chyna　grew　increasingly　afraid　for　Laura。　Those　two　muffled　cries；　minutes　ago；　had　surely　e　after　Sarah　was　already　dead；　so　Laura　must　have　been　surprised　in　her　sleep　by　a　man　smelling　of　her　mother's　blood。　As　soon　as　he　had　overpowered　and　secured　her；　he　had　hurried　to　search　the　rest　of　the　second　floor；　concerned　that　another　member　of　the　family　might　have　been　alerted　by　her　stifled　screams。
　He　might　not　have　returned　immediately　to　Laura。　Having　found　no　one　in　any　of　the　other　rooms；　confident　that　the　house　was　firmly　under　his　reign；　he　most　likely　had　gone　exploring。　If　the　textbooks　were　correct；　he　would　probably　wish　to　violate　every　private　space。
　Pore　through　the　contents　of　his　host's　and　hostess's　closets　and　desk　drawers。　Eat　food　from　their　refrigerator。　Read　their　mail。　Perhaps　finger　and　smell　the　soiled　clothing　in　the　laundry…room　hamper。　If　he　could　locate　collections　'of　family　photographs；　he　might　even　sit　in　the　den　for　an　hour　or　longer；　amusing　himself　with　those　albums。
　Sooner　or　later；　however；　he　would　return　to　Laura。　Sarah　Templeton　had　been　an　extremely　attractive　woman；　but　night　visitors　like　this　man　were　drawn　toward　youth；　they　fed　on　innocence。　Laura　was　his　meat　of　choice；　as　irresistible　as　birds'　eggs　to　certain　tree…climbing　serpents。
　When　at　last　Chyna　overcame　her　racking　nausea　and　was　certain　that　she　wouldn't　betray　herself　by　being　suddenly　and　violently　sick；　she　crept　out　of　the　corner　and　silently　crossed　the　room。
　She　wouldn't　have　been　safe　in　the　master　suite　anyway。　Before　the　visitor　left；　he　was　likely　to　return　here　for　one　last　look　at　poor　Sarah　in　the　shower　with　her　slender　arms　crossed　in　a　pathetic　and　ineffective　posture　of　defense。
　At　the　half…open　door；　Chyna　paused　to　listen。　Directly　across　the　hall；　the　faded　roses　on　the　wallpaper　seemed　more　mysterious　than　ever。　The　pattern　had　such　enigmatic　depth　that　she　was　almost　convinced　she　might　be　able　to　part　the　thorny　vines　and　step　out　of　that　paper　arbor　into　a　sunny　realm　where；　when　she　looked　back；　this　house　would　not　exist。
　With　the　light　from　the　nightstand　lamp　behind　her；　she　could　not　ease　cautiously　into　the　doorway　and　take　her　time　peeking　left　and　right；　because　when　she　moved　onto　the　threshold；　she　would　cast　a　shadow　on　those　faded　roses　across　the　hall。　Dawdling　behind　that　unavoidable　announcement　of　herself　would　be　dangerous。
　Seduced　by　a　long　silence　that　seemed　to　promise　safety；　she　finally　sidled　between　the　half…open　door　and　the　jamb；　into　the　hallway　and　he　was　tbere。　Ten　feet　away。　Near　the　head　of　the　front　stairs；　which　lay　to　the　right。　His　back　was　to　her。
　She　froze。　Half　in　the　hallway。　Half　on　the　threshold　to　the　master　suite。　If　he　turned；　she　would　not　be　able　to　slip　away　before　he　glimpsed　her　from　the　corner　of　his　eye…yet　she　was　unable　to　move　now　while　there　was　still　a　chance　to　avoid　him。　She　was　afraid　that　if　she　made　any　sound　whatsoever；　he　would　hear　it　and　spin　toward　her。　Even　the　microwhispers　of　carpet　fibers　pressing　under　her　shoe；　if　she　moved；　seemed　certain　to　draw　his　attention。
　The　visitor　was　doing　something　so　bizarre　that　Chyna　was　as　transfixed　by　his　activity　as　by　her　fear。　His　hands　were　raised　in　front　of　him；　stretched　as　high　as　he　could　reach；　and　his　spread　fingers　languorously　bed　the　air。　He　seemed　to　be　in　a　trance；　as　though　trying　to　seine　psychic　impressions　from　the　ether。
　He　was　a　big　man。　Six　feet　two；　maybe　even　taller。　Muscular。　Narrow　waist；　enormous　shoulders。　His　denim　jacket　stretched　tautly　across　his　broad　back。
　His　hair　was　thick　and　brown；　neady　barbered　against　the　nape　of　his　bull　neck；　but　Chyna　could　not　see　his　face。　She　hoped　never　to　see　it。
　His　seining　fingers；　stained　with　blood；　looked　crushingly　strong。　He　would　be　able　to　choke　the　life　out　of　her　with　a　single…hand　grip。
　〃e　to　me；〃　he　murmured。
　Even　in　a　whisper；　his　rough　voice　had　a　timbre　and　a　power　that　were　magnetic。　〃E　TO　ME。〃
　He　seemed　to　be　speaking　not　to　a　vision　that　only　he　could　see　but　to　Chyna；　as　if　his　senses　were　so　acute　that　he　had　been　able　to　detect　her　merely　from　the　movement　of　the　air　that　she　had　displaced　when　she'd　stepped　soundlessly　through　the　doorway。
　Then　she　saw　the　spider。　It　dangled　from　the　ceiling　on　a　gossamer　filament　a　foot　above　the　killer's　reaching　hands。　〃Please。〃
　As　if　responding　to　the　man's　supplications；　the　spider　spun　out　its　thread；　descending。
　The　killer　stopped　reaching；　tamed　his　hand　palm…up。　〃Little　one；〃　he　breathed。
　Fat　and　black；　the　obedient　spider　reeled　itself　down　into　the　big　open　palm。
　The　killer　brought　his　hand　to　his　mouth　and　tipped　his　head　back　slightly。　He　either　crushed　the　spider　and　ate　it…or　ate　it　alive。
　He　stood　motionless；　savoring。　Finally；　without　looking　back；　he　went　to　the　head　of　the　stairs　on　the　right；　at　the　midpoint　of　the　hallway；　and　descended　spider…quick　and　almost　spider…silent　to　the　first　floor。
　Chyna　shuddered；　stunned　to　be　alive。
　The　house　held　a　drowning　depth　of　stillness　as　a　dam　held　water；　with　tremendous　pent…up　power　and　pressure　on　the　breast。
　When　Chyna　found　the　courage　to　move；　she　cautiously　approached　the　head　of　the　stairs。　She　feared　that　the　visitor　had　not　fully　descended　to　the　first　floor；　that　he　was　toying　with　her；　standing　just　out　of　sight；　waiting；　smiling。　He　would　reach　for　her；　palms　up；　and　say；　e　to　me。
　She　held　her　breath；　risked　exposure；　and　looked　down。　The　stairs　curved　through　gradients　of　gloom　to　the　foyer　below。　She　could　see　just　well　enough　to　be　sure　that　he　wasn't　there。
　As　far　as　Chyna　could　discern；　no　lamps　were　on　downstairs。　She　wondered　what　he　was　doing　in　that　darkness；　guided　only　by　the　pale　moonglow　at　the　windows。　Perhaps　he　was　in　a　er；　crouched　like　a　spider；　sensitive　to　the　faintest　changes　in　the　patterns　of　the　air；　dreaming　of　silent　stalkings　and　the　frenzied　rending　of　prey。
　She　went　quickly　past　the　head　of　the　stairs；　into　the　last　length　of　hallway；　to　the　next　open　door　and　the　second　source　of　amber　light；　dreading　what　she　might　find。　But　she　could　cope　with　both　the　dread　and　the　finding。　it　was　always　not　knowing；　turning　away　from　truth；　that　caused　night　sweats　and　bad　dreams。
　This　room　was　smaller　than　the　master　suite；　with　no　sitting　area。　A　corner　desk。　A　double　bed。　One　nightstand　with　a　brass　lamp；　a　dresser；　a　vanity　with　a　padded　bench。
　On　the　wall　above　the　bed　was　a　poster…size　portrait　of　Freud。　Chyna　loathed　Freud。　But　Laura；　dear　of　heart　and　idealistic；　clung　to　a　belief　in　many　aspects　of　Freudian　theory；　she　embraced　the　dream　of　a　guiltless　world；　with　everyone　a　victim　of　his　troubled　past　and　yearning　for　rehabilitation。
　Laura　was　lying　facedown　on　the　bed；　atop　the　sheets　and　the　blankets。　Her　wrists　were　handcuffed　behind　her。　A　second　pair　of　handcuffs　secured　her　ankles。　Linking　both　of　those　shiny　steel　restraints　was　a　shackling　chain。
　She　had　been　violated。　The　pants　of　her　baggy　blue　pajamas　had　been　cut　off　with　a　neatness　worthy　of　a　conscientious　tailor；　the　blue　panels　of　cloth　had　been　smoothed　across　the　blankets　to　both　sides　of　her。　The　pajama　shirt　had　been　shoved　up　her　back；　now　it　was　gathered　in　rumpled　folds　across　her　shoulders　and　the　nape　of　her　neck。
　Chyna　moved　deeper　into　the　room；　her　fear　equaled　now　by　a　swelling　sorrow　that　seemed　to　enlarge　her　heart　yet　leave　it　cold　and　empty。　When　she　caught　a　faint　odor　of　spilled　semen；　her　fear　and　sorrow　were　matched　by　anger。　As　she　stooped　beside　the　bed；　her　hands　curled　into　such　hard　fists　that　her　fingernails　pressed　painfully　into　her　palms。
　Sweat…damp　blond　hair　was　pasted　to　the　side　of　Laura's　face。　Her　delicate　features　were　salt…pale　and　clenched　in　anxiety；　and　her　eyes　were　squeezed　tightly　shut。
　She　was　not　dead。　Not　dead。　It　seemed　impossible。　The　girl…terror　had　reduced　her　to　the　condition　of　a　girl…was　murmuring　so　softly　that　the　words　couldn't　be　heard　even　from　a　distance　of　inches；　yet　so　urgently　that　the　meaning　was　harrowingly　clear。　It　was　a　prayer；　one　that　Chyna　had　recited　on　numerous　nights　long　ago；　in　far　places：　a　prayer　for　mercy；　a　plea　to　be　delivered　from　this　horror　untouched　and　alive；　dear　God；　please；　untouched　and　alive。
　On　those　other　nights；　Chyna　had　been　spared　both　violation　and　death。　Already；　half　of　Laura's　petition　had　gone　unanswered。
　Chyna's　throat　tightened　with　anguish；　and　she　could　barely　speak：　〃It's　me。〃　Laura's　eyelids　sprang　open；　and　her　blue　eyes　rolled　like　those　of　a　terrified　horse；　wide　with　disbelief。　〃All　dead。〃
　〃Ssshhh；〃　Chyna　whispered。
　〃Blood。　His　hands。〃
　〃Ssshhh。　I'll　get　you　out　of　here。〃
　〃Stank　like　blood。　Jack's　dead。　Nina。　Everyone。〃
　Jack；　her　brother；　whom　Chyna　had　not　met。　Nina；　her　sister…in…law。　Evidently　the　killer　had　been　to　the　vineyard　manager's　bungalow　before　ing　to　the　main　house。　Four　dead。　There　was　no　help　to　be　found　anywhere　on　the　sprawling　property。
　Chyna　glanced　worriedly　at　the　open　door；　then　quickly　rose　to　test　the　handcuffs　on　Laura's　wrists。　Securely　locked。
　With　fettered　hands　and　fettered　an